


There’s no place like Coul’s

by Bedlamwolf



Series: Marvel Holiday stories [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Family, Gen, People are not dead, Sassy pants people, Team Bonding, WUMP! to go around, holiday party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:42:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9037904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bedlamwolf/pseuds/Bedlamwolf
Summary: Holidays were always rough for the displaced de-facto leader of SHIELD, and he wasn't too happy to be spending them in a safe house away from the team. He'd rather be spending it with his work “family”, but the base had a gas leak and his old team thought he was dead. But at least he had Agent Hill and his vintage Captain America Wreath to cheer him up.And some very determined friends who think of him as family throwing a party in his living room. But he doesn't know that yet...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! This is the second annual installation of Werunyonder and my holiday story based off this house with this wreath. I'm not going to tell you where these people live, but I will say they've made my holidays. The first version will be posted here after the holidays, but it's floating around Tumblr somewhere.

 

 

________

________

 

Phil reminded himself again that he _did_ in fact like the holiday season as he slammed on his brakes yet again to avoid rear ending someone who seemed to be under the impression that the slightest hint of snow meant they either had to do eighty or ten on the road. At least the S.H.I.E.L.D. car he was driving handled well. It didn't make the trip to his temporary home any more pleasant however.

Coulson let out a sigh as he finally pulled into the driveway of the safe house he would be using for the foreseeable future. It was in a quiet neighborhood, and he was sure it was pleasant but at the same time he found himself homesick for the base he shared with his team… which was sitting empty right now because of a gas leak that was being repaired. The rest of his team were taking advantage of the timing to spend the holidays with family. Coulson however had work. Which is why he was at one of the safe houses.

It wasn't like he was going to have no fun for the holidays though. He’d packed his favorite decoration to remind him of home, even if he didn't get to spend it with any of his surrogate family. Thinking about Skye, May and the others made him miss his old team as well. He wondered how they were doing -- the Avengers -- and regretted not being able to interact with them.

“Maybe I'll have Hill send some cards out for me…” She was supposed to come by first thing tomorrow anyway.

 

\-----------

\-----------

 

Maria Hill shook her head as she pulled up behind Coulson’s car in the driveway of the safehouse. Give a man an entire country house to decorate for the holidays, and _that_ is what he chooses? Some people…

Maria was still shaking her head as she entered the house. “Hey, Phil! What’s up with the eyesore on the porch?” she yelled from the doorway.

“That’s vintage!” Coulson yelled from the kitchen. “You want some coffee?”

“Oh god, yes,” Hill said, descending on the kitchen. “You do not know how much I need coffee. Fury is having fits over the gas leak - he thinks it’s Hydra. He’s wants to have the entire building razed and is probably calling in a demo crew as we speak.”

“WHAT?” Phil yelled as he whipped around to face Hill. The coffee sloshed ominously close to the top of the mug before Hill removed it from his hand.

“It’s fine,” she told him. “I gave strict orders that nobody demolish anything without my approval. Your precious base is safe.”

“Sometimes I think it was easier when we were all living on the helicarrier,” Phil sighed wistfully.

Maria gave him The Look. Phil was pretty sure she’d picked it up from Fury, and it was even scarier with two eyes.

“Yeah, okay, maybe it wasn’t easier on the helicarrier…”

“All right, out with it. What’s eating you, Phil?” Maria asked. The dejected puppy dog look was getting old, and if the rumors she’d heard floating around the S.H.I.E.L.D. intelligence community had any merit they’d soon be needing Coulson’s team on top form. Which wasn’t going to be happening if their leader was compromised.

“I guess I just miss the team…” Phil said quietly. Maria raised her eyebrow and he hurried on before he got The Look again. “Because it’s Christmas time and that should be spent with family, which they are all doing, but _they_ are my family and I want to spend time with them, but I don’t want to take away their time with their actual families, and would you mind sending holiday cards out to the old team for me?”

“Woah, breathe, Phil, breathe,” Hill said, taking a few deep breaths herself. She decided to address the easiest matter first. “You can send out your own holiday cards. I’m not your secretary, you can do that yourself.” She took a few more deep breaths before tackling the other issue. “As for your _current_ team, I’m calling, well, technically texting, The Cavalry right now and we’re all going out for coffee. Or maybe in your case hot chocolate with red and green sprinkles. You look like you need the sugar.”

“May doesn’t like being called that.”

“She gave me permission years ago after I pulled her out of an op that went south. I’m surprised you didn’t know about that. And before you protest about dragging her away from her supposed ‘actual’ family, I happen to know her mom’s undercover in Andorra right now. The only thing we’re dragging her away from is binge-watching _The Apprentice_ and possibly setting her TV on fire. We’re probably doing her a favor. And maybe we’ll even go to that 50’s diner you like for lunch and you can get that red, white, and blueberry pie.”

“But it hasn’t stopped snowing for over 18 hours. The roads are terrible,” Phil protested.

“I grew up in Chicago, this is nothing. Get your coat and get in the car. We’re going out for hot chocolate and pie.”

 

\---------

\---------

 

Tony Stark loved publicity. Or well, he loved _good_ publicity, particularly publicity for Stark Industries or, better yet, the Avengers. What he didn’t love was _traveling_ for it and staying at unsecure locations. Which would be why he’d opted to fly back in one of his Suits towards New York the moment the tech expo in Las Vegas was over. Pepper couldn’t even complain about it, since he technically _was_ showing off his tech _at_ the convention, _and_ showing what kind of tech the Avengers had.

Alright, so that was stretching it a bit, but if he had to put up with one more person pawing at him he would have shot someone with his repulsor cannons, so there. He honestly hated being away from the tower or the compund near the holidays because people got so much more handsy. Why was that? He appreciated the gaudy decoration the season brought. Like that one house down below with the inflatable santa and enough lights on, even in the daytime, to land a plane with. Their electric bill had to be inane. Maybe he could talk them into investing in clean energy?

Now, that wasn’t to say he didn’t appreciate the houses decorated with a lighter touch. Like this one here. With its simple garland and double wreaths. Understated but elegant. The Captain America Shield in the middle of the one wreath was a nice touch….

He swung back around. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Yeah boss?”

“Am I seeing this right?”

“I wasn’t aware there was a wrong way to see things, sir.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. snipped back. “But yes. That _IS_ Captain America’s shield in a wreath. My scans show it is not the real thing, though.”

“Pity. Still, if they’re such a fan of spangles I suppose I should go say hi. Team spirit and all that.” Tony grinned behind the visor as he landed in the mostly empty driveway. Publicity like this he was always up for.

“Going to offer them an Iron Man menorah to go with their Captain America Wreath?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. you know I don’t like to brand religious things. For one, it’s foolish, for another one of my teammates IS a god, so it would make more sense to give them a Thor one.” He replied as he knocked on the door. There was no answer and he pouted for a good solid minute.

His A.I. pulled up a set of files in his H.U.D., distracting him from his contemplation on if he should wait here, or come back later. “You might want to take a look at this, boss.”

“Hmmm?” A quick glance showed the file to be the registration for the lone car in the driveway. A document that was obviously forged and in a familiar way at that. “Ohhh and who do we have here?”

More files flickered across his screen before stopping on the image of an unassuming man in a suit. The man had a small smile and worn, friendly eyes. And if _he_ was staying here, there would be a spare key hidden in the banister. Finding it Tony let himself in.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. Clear my schedule for the next few days, would you.”

“Already have.” The AI replied as he removed the armor. No need to break the house, after all.

“Good. Now…” Tony slapped his hands together, looking around the spacious livingroom with glee, “Who to call first?”

 

\----------

\----------

 

Clint got the phone call from Tony while he and Kate were designing their newest set of trick arrows.

“Hey, man! Just the person I wanted to talk to. Kate is trying to tell me that dessication arrows can’t possibly work, but she’s totally wrong. Back me up here?”

“Okay, first of all, when did you even learn the word ‘dessication’?” Tony asked before continuing on. “Second, give me a week and I’ll have a working prototype in your hands. Third, I found Agent Agent’s safehouse and you need to get over here right now because we’re decorating for the holidays. I emailed you the address on the secure account.”

“Well, this one time I ate a couple... umm, dozen... dessicant packets because they were in with those packaged cinnamon rolls? Anyway, the doctors at the clinic yelled about them so much I ended up having to look up the word,” Clint said into the phone as Kate made anguished faces and mimed strangling him. Clint just stuck his tongue out and told her, “Tony said he’ll get me a prototype in a week. So there.”

“Anyway,” Clint said, turning his attention back to the arrow-making billionaire on the phone, “we’ll be over real quick. Lucky can come, right?”

“Of course he can. I’ll make sure there’s some pizza for him.”

“Tell that traitor there’d better be some pizza for me too, or I’m leaving your lame Martha Stewart party,” Kate told Clint.

“I heard that,” Tony said. “You can tell her there will be plenty of pizza for everyone, she doesn’t need to get her bowstrings in a bunch.”

“He heard that,” Clint repeated to Kate. “How’d YOU hear that?”

Kate made another face and signed at Clint, “ _If you turned your hearing aids_ up _, you could turn your phone volume_ down _. The neighbors can probably hear your phone conversations._ ”

“ _But then I can hear them_ ,” Clint signed back at her.

“ _If you hate the neighbors that much, why are we still in this dumpy apartment?_ ” Kate continued signing. “ _You know Tony keeps asking us to move into the Tower with everyone._ ”

“ _I don’t hate them, I just don’t want to hear them all the time_ ,” Clint signed. “ _Why don’t you move into the Tower?_ ”

“ _I’m not moving without you, you idiot. We’re a team_.”

“Uhhhh, guys? You still there?” Tony asked into the phone.

“Sorry, still here,” Clint said quickly. “You want us to bring anything? I think Katie’s got a bowdabra if you’ve got ribbon.”

“I’ve got to make a supply run, but I’ll be sure to pick up some ribbon for your bows. What is it with archers and bows?”

 

\----------

\----------

 

Natasha would never admit it, but following another assassin was hard work. Especially if they were one of any decent caliber. It lead to what Clint called Assassin-Tag, which is why she had been tailing someone for the last four hours she _knew_ was aware she was following him all while trying to keep out of sight. Though if all the guys she tailed were nice enough to buy her Starbucks, she could do with the affront to her pride.

Still, it was early and Nat was already sick of trying to figure out what the man was up to. He didn’t seem to be planning on blowing up the mall they were at, but he had absolutely no reason to be in this area unless it had to do with a hit. And S.H.I.E.L.D. had a thing against independent agents on the loose, so since she happened to know from Hill that this was where her long-ago handler was vacationing she’d decided to take care of it. Before the deceptively nice Phil got involved. Last thing she needed was another clown on the Avengers with her.

Speaking of clowns…. “Tony.” She said with exasperated fondness as she answered the phone.

"Nat.” He said with the same tone. “What are you up to?”

“Following a guy.”

“Ah. So you have a date for the holiday party!”

She paused, letting her mark get out of sight and giving Tony her full attention. He sounded a little too excited. “What holiday party?”

“Oh, the one I’m throwing at Agent Agent’s safehouse. I’m there right now. We need to decorate.” She heard something being dragged in the background.

“How did you…. How did Phil react to you just showing up on his doorstep?”

Tony let out one of those little laughs that made Steve’s eye twitch. “I was flying over, and I saw a wreath.” She knew exactly which one, how sad was that? “So I stopped in, and well… No one's here right now, but his car is so he’ll be back at _some point_ and I wanted to get the gang all together and surprise him. Say you’ll come?”

Now, some people thought the Black Widow was cruel or heartless. Her friends obviously knew differently, but even still she heard the note of self-doubt in Tony’s voice. Sometimes it was easy to forget how the man struggled to make friends and how much he thought of them all as family. She knew the …. Dispute … caused by the accords had hurt them all, but Tony had taken the fight very personally. It was easy to tell this was his attempt at making amends.

“Listen, I appreciate the thought, but you can’t just _take over someone’s house_ , Tony.” She was smiling though.

“Already did though. Just got to run out and get the decorations and--”

“Tony.” She didn’t think he had a car.

“--then we’ll be all set. You in or out?”

“How are you getting to the store?”

There was a pause, “I was thinking of flying there…”

“No. First, you’ll cause a riot. Secondly you’ll have nowhere to put the decorations. Suburbs don’t have delivery like the tower does, Tony.” She vetoed that plan.

“So you _do_ know where he lives!”

“I do. I’d suggest calling for an Uber since Happy is a bit too far to come and get you.”

He tisked. “Ew, no. I’m not letting some uppity millennial get me lost because they _think_ they know the fastest way.”

Well if that didn’t work, Lyft wouldn’t and Enterprise might take too long for the easily-excited Tony. She sighed, realizing her self-appointed tailing was at an end a bit earlier then she’d wanted. “I’m at the local mall… I can pick things up and be over in a few hours.”

“Oh good! I’ll send you a list…. Hey, do you know where Agent Agent _is_ right now? I’m kind of surprised he hasn’t shown up yet, with how paranoid he is. Though I did have F.R.I.D.A.Y. disarm his alarm system.”

“I’m not sure, but I bet Hill knows. I’ll message her and tell her to keep him busy for the foreseeable future.”

“...I could do that.”

“Tony.”

“Or I can go back to decorating.”

She chuckled as she went to hang up, “I’ll see you soon, Tony.”

“Yeah, see ya, Nat. Oh hey! Quick question…. Is Phil Jewish?”

“What?”

“Nevermind. Got to go.”

She looked at her phone as the call disconnected and worried slightly what her friend was up to. Knowing him it could be anything, so she quickly headed into Sears to start picking up what she’d need. Food might prove to be a problem, but Nat would worry about that when she had a headcount.

At least it looked like she wouldn’t be spending the holidays alone this year.

 

\---------

\---------

 

Sam had been having such a good day. No aliens attacking, evil sentient robots, super-powered nutcases… roommates with serious PTSD. Nothing like watching the snow fall outside his house while he stayed inside in his pajamas. He even had the house to himself today, since Steve was out training some new recruits.

He was all ready to settle down on the couch with a mug of tea and an episode of _The Walking Dead_ he’d recorded last week when he got the call from Tony. “How’d you even get this number?”

“Hm? I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. look it up for me.”

“Tony, this is supposed to be a secure number. You can’t just hack into a S.H.I.E.L.D. database because you want to call someone.”

“Sorry, what was that? Couldn’t hear you.”

Sam could hear hammering and metallic screeching in the background, so it _might_ have been true. More likely Tony was choosing to ignore him. Sam sighed. “What do you want?”

“So glad you asked!” The fact you could hear the smile was worrying. “Listen, we’re having a holiday shindig up at Agent Agent’s place and I need you to pop over to Queens and grab a package on the way. Don’t worry, I already called and it’ll be ready to pick up on the doorstep when you get there.”

Sam sat straight up on the couch and hit the pause on the TV remote. “Queens?! I’m in DC, man!”

“It’s only about an hour and a half as the Falcon flies.”

“Tony, I am NOT flying out to Queens to deliver a package for you! You have your own suit! And three private jets!” Sam yelled into the phone. This was _so_ not how he wanted this day to go.

“I’ve got my hands full right now.” More screeching could be heard in the background. Sam was pretty sure he was doing it on purpose. “I promise it’ll be worth it. Holiday party at Agent Agent’s, hosted by yours truly! It’ll be one for the books.”

“Who the hell is ‘Agent Agent’?”

“You know, Phil Coulson? S.H.I.E.L.D. agent? Died in the Chitauri attack?” Tony said between hammering.

Sam put one hand on his face and groped around for the remote with the other. There was no point even trying to watch something now. “I thought he was supposed to be incognito. You sure you should be throwing a party at his place?”

“It’ll be fun! I texted you the address. Don’t be late!” Tony said as he hung up.

Sam groaned as he collapsed face first on the couch. He could just lie here for a few minutes before getting dressed, right? Or maybe forever. Forever would be good. Except then Steve would come back from training and give him a lecture about standing people up. And Sam would get the patented Steven-Grant-Rogers-is-disappointed-in-you face.

Just the thought of that was enough to get Sam off the couch. He sighed heavily. When his mama told him all he’d get from taking in strays would be fleas, he never expected the stray to be Captain America, or the fleas to be the Avengers.

But a few more minutes on the couch wouldn’t hurt, right?

 

\----------

\----------

 

Peter felt more than a bit foolish as he stood on the steps of his apartment building. But Mr. Stark had given him very specific instructions, and he was following them to the letter. Literally.

He wasn’t sure why he needed to have a sign pinned to his chest spelling “PACKAGE” but here he was. He twisted the computer around his wrist absentmindedly. Yeah, this was super weird, but having a patron sure beat dumpster diving.

“You have to be kidding me!” Peter heard coming from… above?

Oh. OH. That was… that was Sam Wilson, aka Falcon. And he was landing, yep, definitely landing on the steps. And muttering darkly about Tony Stark. Okay. Okay, _this_ was happening. Oh god, what if he found out Peter was the one who’d webbed him back at the airport?

“I take it you’re the package Tony asked me to pick up?” Peter heard Falcon ask him.

“Uhh, yeah? Mr. Stark told me to wait outside and I’d know when my ride was here?”

“And the bow?” he asked, gesturing to the Christmas bow on top of Peter’s head.

“Mr. Stark was very specific?”

“I’ll bet he was. You got anything to wear besides that?” Falcon asked, gesturing this time to the hoodie and jeans Peter was wearing.

“No? I mean, I got a hat inside?” Peter told him, confused.

“Go get it,” Falcon told him as he doffed his flight rig on the steps. By the time Peter came back outside, the rig was back on and Falcon was shaking out some kind of shiny fabric. “Okay, put on the hat and wrap yourself in this,” he instructed, handing Peter the fabric.

Peter fingered the fabric. “Is this mylar?”

“Yes, it’s an emergency blanket. We’re going to be flying through a snowstorm, and you’re going to freeze to death if you aren’t protected. MY flight suit is insulated,” Falcon stuck out his arm for Peter to examine the fabric, “but YOUR hoodie is not going to cut it. I don’t want this rig to have to carry another body if I can help it.” We did enough of that in Afghanistan, he thought sadly to himself.

“Woah, sweet fabric!” Peter exclaimed, completely missing Sam’s last statement. “What IS this? Is this honeycombed neoprene lined with…” Peter flipped the cuff of the sleeve over, “some kind of metallic polar fleece? And what is this coating? It’s not rubber, but some kind of lightweight waterproofing…”

“Hang on, I _know_ that voice,” Falcon said as Peter blanched and dropped the sleeve. “You’re that spider kid, aren’t you?”

“Uhhhhh…” Peter stammered.

“You are, aren’t you? That mother-f…” Sam paused and took a deep breath. This was only a kid. “I can’t believe Tony sent me to pick up the spider kid. I should have known he’d pull something like this. Oh, stop cringing and put on the blanket. I’m not going to eat you. Tony roped you into that whole thing, I don’t blame you.”

“Umm, thanks?” Peter said as he threw the blanket around his shoulders. “It’s Spiderman, by the way.”

“What?”

“It’s Spiderman, not Spiderkid. But you can just call me Peter.”

 

\----------

\----------

 

“Man, having a van in New York City _sucks_ !” Scott muttered as he drove past yet _another_ full parking garage. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Luis lending him the van while his friend was spending time with his cousin Jesus (or was it Julio this time?) for the holidays. Especially since he himself didn’t have a car. But with Maggie having gone on vacation with Cassandra out of country he didn’t have anywhere to really be for the holidays. Which kind of stunk, but at least he wasn’t in jail this year. That was a plus, right?

Though jail would mean he wouldn’t be driving around in circles looking for a parking spot. Next time he was taking the subway in to see the tree.

He’d just been turned away from his sixth parking lot when his phone rang. Without bothering to look to see who was calling he answered, “You’ve reached a _very_ frustrated Scott. I’m unable to talk to you right now _BECAUSE I CAN’T FIND A PARKING SPOT--_ oh come on! You did NOT just cut me off! I could shrink your car if I wanted to!-- call me later.”

“So I take it you’re still in the city.” Sam, also known as the Falcon, replied in obvious amusement even with the interference coming across the line.

“It’s not funny. I may be styled after a colony bug, but that doesn’t mean I like crowds like _this_. Plus, I’ve driven by the tree three times and I still can’t find a place to park.”

“I feel for ya, man. I do. But you know Steve told you crash at the tower if you wanted to see it that badly.”

Stopping at another red light Scott sighed. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll do that next year. I think I’m gonna call it quits before I road-rage myself into the Hulk though.”

“So you’re free then?”

“What was that? I can barely hear you. Are you… are you calling me while flying?”

The long pause told him that was exactly what was going on and Scott smiled, cheered up for some reason. “Yeah, well. I asked if you were free.”

“I seem to be.” He said, circling the block. Whatever Sam was calling about he was sure it was going to be good.

“Ok good. Because I happen to know of this party being thrown. An Avengers kind of thing and--”

“I’d love to go!”

There was a laugh. “Yeah I thought you would say that. I can send you the address. But first you’re going to have to swing by the tower to pick up a few of the party goers.”

“But I just passed there!”

“Hey, no complaining. If I had to pick up Spiderkid--” he heard an indignant shout followed by a fond chuckle, “Sorry, Spider _man_ , then you can pick up the others.”

Scott laughed himself, turning the wheel as he started to make his way back towards the tower. “So everyone’s coming, huh?”

“That’s Tony’s plan. But since Nat said we’re supposed to keep a low profile, I thought I’d bring in the help-” Meaning Scott, “so Thor didn’t try and Bifrost everyone there.”

“Wow he can do that?” That was a scary thought. And very not subtle. “Yeah, sure, I’ll be the help this time. So… where am I going again?”

There was the sound of people talking over the wind. “I’ll have the kid text you the address. My hands are a little full at the moment.”

“OH MY GOD! You’re taking the kid flying?! I want a ride too!”

“Bye Scott.” The line went dead. Seconds later his phone dinged with an incoming text. Now he just had to get to the tower without crashing.

 

\----------

\----------

 

Thor stared at the man in the video feed from the lobby. “Do we know this man?” he asked over his shoulder. “He is very… exuberant. Full of life. I am sure I would remember meeting such a man.”

The rest of the current Avengers-in-residence gathered around the video feed.

“Oh, that’s Scott,” Wanda informed the god. “He’s a friend of Sam’s.”

“Then he is worthy to enter our domain! I shall let him in!” Thor boomed, pushing a button on the control panel under the bank of video monitors.

Suddenly alarms started blaring and they could see metal shutters drop over the lobby windows on the video feed. The lights in the lobby started flashing, and they saw Scott jump about a foot in the air.

“It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it!” they heard him shout over the monitor. He threw his hands in the air and dropped to his knees. “Don’t shoot! I have a daughter!”

Stifling a laugh, Wanda reached around Thor (who was now attempting to push every button on the control panel) and flicked a small switch labeled “Unlock”. She then pressed the button labeled “Lobby-Penthouse”.

“Perhaps it would be best if I retrieved him,” Wanda told the blond god as the elevator opened with a ding. “Vision, would you mind restoring order to the system?” She gestured to the bank of video monitors, where they could all see lights flashing and doors opening and shutting on most of the screens.

Some time later, after Tony had called and been talked out of a panic over all the tower alarms going off, the Avengers were ready to head out. Thor was carrying a giant bag of wreaths (for the joyous Midgardian festive, as he put it) under one arm, and Mjolnir in the other. Vision had asked about the wisdom of bringing the weapon to a party, but Thor insisted that Mjolnir would pine without him. Bruce just laughed and said it made for a good party trick.

Thor stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Scott’s van.

“Hey, warn a guy,” Pietro complained after almost running into the god. When Thor didn’t move, he zipped around him yelling, “SHOTGUN!” and jumped in the front seat.

“You own… a van?” Thor asked Scott reverently.

“Well, technically borrowing, but yeah, why?”

“You must be the mightiest warrior to possess such a steed!” Thor exclaimed. “To manage such a vehicle is an honor granted only to the most fearsome Midgardians!”

Scott looked at the Asgardian oddly. “Well, I guess soccer moms _can_ get pretty fearsome?”

“It will be an honor to ride in your noble van to the midwinter festive,” Thor proclaimed happily, loading the wreaths into the van. “Many great tales will be told of this journey. Ballads will be written of your exploits in the mighty van. All will know of the peerless Man of Ants.”

Scott stared in disbelief as he mouthed “man of ants?”

Bruce clapped him on the shoulder as he walked by. “Don’t worry about it. He got tazered by the last person he knew with a van. He won’t actually write any ballads to you. Probably…”

 

\----------

\----------

 

The van ride had been one of the longest in Wanda’s life. She wouldn't rate being stuck next to a caroling Thor as bad as being pinned down by a bomb, but it was close. Especially when he started questioning the lyrics of the more popular Christmas songs.

Arriving at the house of this “Agent Agent” was a relief though and she would admit she was the first one out of vehicle. She even beat her brother.

Tony of course was waiting for them, having seen them park behind Nat’s shiny black maserati. “The gang’s all here. Or well, most of the gang. The pigeon is in the living room, and I sent arachni-kid up on the roof to decorate.”

“Who?” She asked, gratefully accepting a mug of peppermint hot cocoa with marshmallows from Nat. The older woman had a tray at the ready and was handing them out.

“You know, the spider kid.”

“ _Spider-Man!_ How does everyone get that wrong?” She heard a complaint coming from the roof just as she went into the house to make room on the porch for the others.

The living room was already half decorated, she saw. Or at least, there was a tree up and lights had already been put on it. Judging by the bags and boxes of ornaments she assumed the rest was to be done as a group.

“Presents are being delivered. _That much_ I could have delivered, thanks to Pepper.” Tony commented, coming up behind her.

“It looks very nice.” And it did. Not that she or her brother had much to compare it to. But she didn't want her friends -- their new family-- to know that.

“It does indeed look most festive! Why, Valhalla’s greatest halls would be put to shame!”

“That might be a slight exaggeration, right?” Scott asked, still not used to Thor after two hours.

“Hey, it's a _Stark_ Christmas party. Of course it's going to be amazing.”

Bruce gave a little shy smile, “Don't you mean an _Avengers_ party?”

“That makes it even better! And non-denominational, of course.” Tony spun with more than a little manic energy. “Wanda! You're Jewish, right? I mean, genetically at least, right?.... You kinda have the whole god powers down yourself..... but Jewish. Right?"

 

She was torn between shifting away and laughing at him. So she settled with a simple “Yes? Pietro and I are Jewish…”

“Good! Because I made a menorah.” He dragged her towards the kitchen. “See?”

“I… don't know what to say…”

“It's too much, isn't it?” His grin faltered and she could feel him, his doubt and self disgust. The tart flavor of shame his thoughts had anytime he looked at her now.

He hadn't really forgiven himself for trying to keep her cooped up in the manor even if she had. Having gotten to know Tony she understood how he had feared for her safety. It helped she had overheard one of the heated phone calls as he tried to gain her citizenship.

Looking again at what he had made she ignored the cannibalized stove and oven with the tablecloth half covering it. Instead she focused on the four foot collection of interconnected pipes on top of a metal container. There were small valves near each opening and a larger one on the base. She could see the care he put into it and the research as the thing smelled slightly of oil. “It is very unique. In the good way, Tony. Like you. And it is lovely.”

His grin came back, “It works, too. But since today is the 24th and hanukkah doesn't start till sundown I only tested it for a moment. To make sure it worked. That's ok, right? Oh, and if the oil runs low I've made it possible to substitute other oils. Like cooking ones. So you know---”

She stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder. “It is perfect. I love it.” And she did. It reminded her of the Avengers themselves. Pieces you wouldn't think fitting together making something beautiful and unique _because_ of how different the parts were. Something that inspired hope to those who needed it.

Something that reminded her of family. “We should light it together tonight. All of us, yes?”

Tony squeezed her hand, “I'll have F.R.I.D.A.Y. let us know with enough time to move it to the table.”

“The window would be better.” She wanted everyone to see her family and what they could do together.

“I bow to your wisdom. It's your holiday.”

“It is _our_ holiday.”

 

\----------

\----------

 

Vision wasn’t entirely sure what one was supposed to do at a holiday party. It seemed to be mostly standing around yelling insults, punctuated by brief moments of decorating productivity. There seemed to be a good deal of alcohol consumption occurring as well.

He did have to admit the mood seemed very festive, and everyone in attendance appeared to be having an enjoyable time. Wanda was teaching Thor how to spin a dreidel, Natasha and Katherine were re-enacting dance sequences of _The Nutcracker_ , and Peter and Pietro were attempting to sneak mugs of the spiked eggnog while nobody was looking.

Well, this would not do.

“Boys,” Vision said, gliding into the kitchen through the wall and refrigerator, “You appear to be sampling from the wrong bowl of eggnog.”

A mug clattered to the ground, and Vision stuck out his hand. Judging from his current location, the position of the nearest exit, and the velocity of Quicksilver, he figured he had a 93% probability of catching the boy. His calculations appeared to be in order, as he held the squirming teenager by one arm.

“I would imagine you did not see that coming,” Vision said with a wry smile.

“We’re not _hurting_ anyone,” Pietro whined.

“It was an accident?” Peter asked hopefully.

“I think not,” Vision scolded. “There is a reason alcohol consumption is not permitted for humans of your age. Alcohol has been shown to not only reduce the size of the hippocampus, but also the prefrontal cortex. Damaging your developing brains is inadvisable, and I would be irresponsible to permit you to continue on this course of action.”

“Man, you’re such a drag,” Pietro complained.

“I can assure you that I am neither man nor drag, young Maximoff. However, I understand that as a human nearing the end of its second decade, it is your nature to test boundaries and seek out new experiences. I will accept your unspoken apology, and release you on the condition that you clean up your mess and socialize with your peers in a manner befitting the limits of your age.”

“Fine, no drinking,” Pietro begrudgingly agreed.

Vision let go of his arm, and in a whirlwind faster than he could see, Pietro had cleaned up the broken mug and zipped out the door leaving a bewildered Peter in his wake.

 

\----------

\----------

 

Pietro felt a little bad about leaving the new guy to deal with Vision, but only for about half a second. It was a rite of passage, and it wasn't like he didn't spend way too much time with Vision since he and Wanda had a thing.

And he was NOT going to think about that. The living room was starting to look more like a tinsel explosion but everyone was having fun. Going over to the bowls on the coffee table full of treats he noticed they were empty again.

“Hey, we need more chips!”

“Then go get them, Flash Gordon.” Tony snarked back.

Pietro snorted, “First, it's _Quicksilver._ And secondly, I'm a guest.”

“Who ate all the popcorn.”

“Well, to be fair, Thor ate all the pretzels.” Bruce put in, eyeing the empty bowls with a sad smile.

“Then Speedy here can pick those up, too. And some Chinese to hold us over until dinner. Or well, first dinner.”

“I'm not your delivery boy, Stark.”

Tony feigned surprise, “You’re not?! Then who ever am I going to give all this money for snacks to?”

The white haired teen huffed, “I don't have a car.” He pointed out, crossing his arms. Not that he had a license either.

“Then run. You're faster than a car.” Nat suggested.

Pietro pouted. “It's cold out--”

And his sister snorted at him. The traitor. “Not as cold as Sokovia.”

“You are all against me.”

“Nah, we're just hungry, kid.” Clint said, coming up behind him to ruffle his hair. “Could you pick up a pizza or two for Lucky, too?”

Realizing he wasn't getting out of this, Pietro nodded. “Fine, I'll get some Pizza for the dog.” Extra meat lovers, because everyone spoiled Lucky, even him. “Anything else?”

“Cheese platter.”

“More tinsel.”

“More ornaments!”

“More _everything._ ” Tony paraphrased. “Here, take my card. And steal a shopping cart. We will return it later. Do a whole publicity thing. _Avengers shopping_ or something.”

Actually that sounded pretty fun. Both parts, since he was kind of interested in how fast he could get a shopping cart to go before the tires melted off. “Ok, I'm off then. Back in ten!” Less if the self checkout lines were open at the store.

 

\----------

\----------

 

Bruce was happy to see everyone was getting along at this party. With such an eclectic group of people, you could never predict how these things would turn out. And since the last Stark party had ended up with an evil sentient of robot destroying Sokovia, well, he felt like he had a perfectly rational reason to be concerned.

If the biggest monstrosity to come out of this party was the bacon-grease-burning menorah, well, he’d count this as a win.

… Tony did know not to actually use bacon grease, right? He hoped the genius knew bacon grease was definitely not kosher. You know what, he better go check on that. Sometimes Tony’s enthusiasm got ahead of his research.

As he went in search of the genius billionaire philanthropist, he noticed Peter seemed to have cornered Wanda in the living room. Judging from Peter’s enthusiastic hand gestures and Wanda’s half-vacant expression, Bruce guessed they were probably talking about Peter’s newest engineering project. Poor Wanda was too polite to tell him she wasn’t interested, and she was certainly too polite to use her powers to escape. Well, luckily for her, everyone’s favorite mean, green, distracting machine was on her side tonight.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but could you do me a favor Wanda?”

"Yes? Of course I can help you, Bruce.” The look on Wanda’s face was pathetically grateful.

“Tony keeps going on about his sustainable menorah being fueled by kitchen by-products, and I’m not sure I trust him to not use bacon grease as a fuel source. Would you mind, well, reminding him that bacon grease isn’t kosher? I think it would be better coming from you?”

“Oh dear,” Wanda sighed. She and her brother weren’t the most strict about observing Kashrut, but bacon in the menorah was pushing it, even for them. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“Thank you,” Bruce told her before turning to Peter. “Sorry to interrupt your conversation. But you know how Tony can get sometimes.”

Peter tried his best to nod sagely. This was Dr. Bruce Banner! Talking to him!

“So, what are you working on these days?” Bruce asked him.

“Uhhhhhhhh…”

“You seemed pretty excited when you were telling Wanda about it,” Bruce prodded. It had been a while, but he still remembered how to deal with starstruck interns. “I promise I won’t poach any of your ideas.”

“Oh, uhhh, well I was telling Wanda about Sam, I mean Mr. Willson’s awesome flight suit. The thermal insulation is incredible and I was hoping to try out some of the techniques on my suit. New York can get pretty cold in the winter, so it’d be cool if I didn’t freeze while hanging on the side of a building, you know?”

Bruce made encouraging noises, glad the boy was warming up to him. Sometimes people got nervous around him because of the Other Guy, so he was happy Peter was getting comfortable.

“... but the material in Mr. Wilson’s suit is kinda thick, so I don’t know how well that would work for the gloves. Maybe if I can make something lighter in weight so I don’t lose the range of motion?”

“Well,” Bruce said, also warming up to the conversation, “if I remember the specs of Sam’s suit correctly, most of the bulk is taken up by the neoprene. Since you presumably won’t be shooting around the lower atmosphere at high speeds, you won’t need quite as much insulation as he does.”

“Wait, hang on,” Peter said excitedly, “you know the specs of Mr. Wilson’s flight suit?”

“I should, I helped Tony design it,” Bruce told him with a laugh. “Tony took all the credit for that, didn’t he?”

“What, no!” Peter quickly, waving his hands in front of him to emphasize his point. “I didn’t talk to Mr. Stark about it at all. That’s so cool you guys designed it together!”

“Oh, you know Tony. He likes make sure the Avengers always have the best tech,” he said lightly.

Bruce didn’t think the kid needed to know the other half of it. How Tony reached out after the Accords incident, begging him to come back. How Tony had gone nights without sleeping, writing and rewriting amendments to the Accords, trying to find a way, any way, to bring the rest of the Avengers back to the team. Sam’s flight suit wasn’t just a testament to the technological strength of the Avengers, it was an apology letter to Sam Wilson. Just like Steve’s repaired shield, and every trick arrow Tony designed for Clint, Sam’s suit was Tony’s plea for forgiveness.

Bruce knew a lot about trying to make up for the lives destroyed for the “greater good”. He wasn’t even sure Tony knew exactly what he was doing, but Bruce could see it plain as day. He hoped this party would help Tony understand that the others had already forgiven him, even if he could never forgive himself.

And here, here was this kid who only seemed to see the best in all of them. This kid he could help. “You know we’ve got the specs on file at the tower. You should come over to the workshop some time and we can work on it together.”

“Really?” Peter asked. Bruce was warmed to see the delight in his eyes. “You’d do that for me?”

 

\----------

\----------

 

Diplomacy was really important to T’Challa. His father had been a big proponent of settling things peacefully, and he was doing his best to live up to that legacy. Of course, it was a lot harder to do early in the morning. Especially after he had been up almost all night in meetings, assuring other nations that Wakanda did _not_ know where the Winter Solider was even if rumors were circulating that the assassin was in Wakanda. Which, he didn’t in fact know where the man was. He might have a _rough idea_ of where Bucky had gone off to, but he most assuredly was not in Wakanda at the moment.

That being said, T’Challa was definitely getting sick of repeating himself about the fact after close to twelve hours of the same question being posed to him, just worded slightly differently. His annoyance with all of it _might_ be why when he was suddenly surrounded by a bright flash of light before finding himself in on a snow covered yard he felt relief instead of annoyance.

Seeing his brothers-in-arms grinning at him from a deck strung with lights and the good Captain’s shield wreathed in evergreen foliage most likely played a part as well. “It is good to see you again, Tony.” He addressed the most familiar face of the three men who had apparently been waiting for him.

“You too, pussycat.”

“I can’t help but wonder why you have called me here.” He looked down at the elaborate scroll work etched into the snow, “Particularly in such a showy fashion.”

“It’s a long story, but the most important part is you’re coming to the first ever annual Avenger’s Holiday shindig.”

“Shindig?” Pietro asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I like this Midgardian idea of ‘shindig’. Darcy has told me much of the revelry that can be found at a shindig.”

The teen shrugged, “Shindig it is then.”

Why was he not surprised that Stark had kidnapped him for a party? Somehow T’Challa thought he should be more bothered by the fact as he grinned up at his friends instead of feeling pleased to be included. “I should find some way to let Wakanda know. You happened to take me in the middle of an important meeting.”

“Psh. Who do you think I am? I already called the Widow-wannabe that you have as a secretary and told her we were borrowing you. Don’t worry, they’ll get you back in one piece.”

Thor grinned happily, “At much haste as well. Heimdall is pleased to assist us in this matter.”

“Well, if that is the case, I am most pleased to accept your invitation to the gathering.” T’Challa replied easily. This was a much better way to spend his time when compared to what he was doing just moments ago.

 

\----------

\----------

 

Steve clocked Bucky running towards the practice room at the S.H.I.E.L.D. compound as he was showing a trainee how to flip an enemy combatant over their hip. This would be the perfect opportunity to show the counter to the flip. He usually found it difficult to convince the trainees to partner him, but it was nearly impossible to demonstrate the counter without a willing partner. Bucky would have no problem trying to flip Captain America, though.

“Hey Buck!” he called out with a wave.

“Hey,” Bucky called back, coming in at an odd angle and not really slowing down. “Good news everyone, practice is out early today.”

“What are you talking abo-” Steve’s question was cut off as Bucky’s shoulder collided with his stomach and Bucky lifted him off his feet in a single shoulder carry.

“Gotta go!” Bucky told the trainees with a wave, turning around and jogging back in the direction he came from.

Steve twisted, trying to break free, but Bucky’s metal arm was clasped firmly around the back of his knees. “Buck, what the hell? Did Tony pay you to humiliate me?” He sure hoped there were no paparazzi hanging around the compound today. The last thing he needed was a front page photo of him being carried by the Winter Soldier like a sack of potatoes.

“Quit yer squirming. This sure was easier back when you were a little fella,” Bucky complained. “We’re goin’ to a Christmas, sorry, _Holiday_ party up at Coulson’s and we gotta get there before he does.”

“And you couldn’t let me walk like a civilized person? You gotta show up and scoop me up like some kinda sissy?”

“Oh, stop bellyachin’. I’ll let you down soon as we get to the car.”

“I should’ve left you with Zola back at that Hydra base. My life woulda been so much easier,” Steve grumbled, trying to elbow Bucky in the back.

“But think of all the fun you’d’ve missed, Radost’ Moya.”

“Da, pokhishcheniya eto veselo.”

“Ty znayesh’ eto. I only take you to the very best places,” Bucky joked, setting Steve on his feet next to the car. While Steve tugged his shirt back into place, Bucky opened the passenger’s door and held it open with a bow.

“Sure, ‘cause war-torn Europe, a self-destructing helicarrier, and Siberia are the very best places,” Steve shot back.

“To be fair, you were the one who made the helicarrier self destruct. And I hauled your sorry backside out of Potomac afterwards. That ought to count for something.”

“Yeah,” Steve said quietly. “Yeah it does. Say, if we’re going to a party at Coulson’s, why do we have to get there before he does?”

Bucky climbed into the driver’s seat before answering. “Oh, well, Tony’s hosting. It’s just AT Coulson’s place. Hill’s stalling Phil until everybody shows up so it can be a surprise. Tony said we better leg it over there ‘cause Phil’s startin’ to get suspicious.”

 

\----------

\----------

 

Fury could feel the smile starting to strain around the edges as he sat there in the rustic diner making small talk with Phil. When May had sent a text message requesting backup, he had thought she meant for a mission.

Distracting Coulson was _not_ a mission, no matter how cagey he could be about staying in one place for more than ten minutes. He couldn't say no, though. Not when he was aware how hard the holidays hit Coulson. Nick knew what Tony had planned was just what the doctor ordered as it were.

Of course the issue was if he found out about it beforehand, he would be gone clear across the country before you could say Jack Frost. Which is how he got suckered into this.

“I've been watching that show, Cupcake Wars?”

“Oh, I love that show.” Phil smiled slightly, playing with his coffee cup.

Fury snorted, “It's alright. For a cooking show, that is. But with _Wars_ in the name I was expecting more excitement.”

“Were you expecting explosives or poison in the cupcakes?” May asked, “because I know a guy.”

“I don't know, something though. A food fight. Anything but that Nancy pansy bullshit.” He drained his coffee, “And that cutting to commercials before announcing the winner is just cruel.”

“Retirement doesn't suit you, sir.” He knew Hill was laughing at him.

“Retirement is fine. It's just those stupid shows.”

“Well,” Phil suggested, “You could spend time with your nieces and nephew.”

“I'd rather take on Hydra again, Phil. The girls are two and he's a year old. Dealing with spies is easier.”

“Oh, I don't know. It can't be worse than dealing with Tony.” Here came that sad smile again.

Fury couldn't take it anymore. Checking his watch showed it was now well after noon. If Stark wasn't ready by now, too bad. "Well, will you look at the time. Judge Judy is going on in a half an hour and I don't want to miss it. That woman is fiesty."

“Yes she is something.” Phil agreed standing as well. “I hope to see you again sir."

"Yeah see you soon. And enough with the sir thing. We're equals now.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

Nick could only shake his head as he left, shooting a text to Tony on his way out. :: _You better be ready, because he's on his way, Stark.::_

 

\----------

\----------

 

Bucky wasn’t stupid - he knew what was going on when Tony asked him to go outside and shovel the driveway.

“Sure, send the guy with the metal arm outside in the cold. If my arm ices up, you’re going to be the one fixing it,” he grumbled before heading out with a shovel.

Bucky wasn’t actually upset about being on shovel duty. A New York winter was balmy compared to Siberia, and clearing the driveway wasn’t hard. Besides, he wasn’t called the Winter Soldier for nothing. The crisp air and exercise would do him good.

Bucky fell into an easy rhythm as he cleared the drive. Scrape, lift, toss. Scrape, lift, toss. It was kind of fun, seeing how far he could throw each shovelful of snow. The neighbors probably weren’t going to appreciate the extra snow covering their cars, but that’s what they got for parking in the range of a super soldier armed with a shovel.

“How’s it going out here?” Natasha asked, leaning off the porch railings. “There’s a mug of hot cocoa with your name on it when you’re finished burying the neighbors cars.”

“It’s nice to see someone values my labor,” Bucky said with a smile.

Natasha smiled back at him. “I even saved you a candy cane to stir your cocoa with. See how much we appreciate you? Also, Tony wanted me to let you know he’s got a bottle of corrosion oil for your arm. Something about making sure you don’t get too rusty?”

“You can tell Mr. Corrosion Oil to come out here himself if he has a message for me,” Bucky groused. He’d show Tony who had a rusty arm.

“I’ll let him know,” Natasha replied, turning to head back into the house. “Don’t stay out here too long - somebody might finish off the whipped cream before you get any.”

“If you can’t protect the last of the whipped cream, you’re not the agent I thought you were!” Bucky called after her. He did pick up the pace on his shoveling, though. He wasn’t going to miss out on the whipped cream if he could help it.

“You do realize if you didn’t insist on shoveling in a vest and actually covered your arms, rusting wouldn’t be a problem,” Tony told him as he stepped out onto the porch a few minutes later.

“You know our Buck,” Steve said as he joined Tony on the porch, “he can’t resist wearing his favorite vest.”

“Is that a sniper thing?” Tony asked absently as he reached over and grabbed the mug Steve had brought outside. He took a sip and hummed appreciatively. “Clint’s also obsessed with vests. I don’t get it.”

Steve laughed and slung his arm around Tony’s shoulder. “You run around wearing a full suit of armor. I don’t think you have any room to talk about Clint and Bucky’s love for vests.”

“Besides,” Bucky growled as he dropped the shovel and vaulted over the porch railings, “Kate’s a sniper and she doesn’t wear vests.” He snatched the mug out of Tony’s hands and took a swig before making a horrified face. “What _is_ this?”

“I think Vision called it a ‘Hot Buttered Normandy’,” Steve told his best friend, trying hard not to laugh at the face he was making. “Apparently he found the recipe online? It’s like hot buttered rum with apple cider.”

“Why would you _dooooo_ that?” Bucky whined, shoving the drink back at Tony.

Tony tried to surreptitiously wipe the rim of the mug with his sleeve. When he felt Steve squeeze his shoulder warningly, he gave up and delicately sipped the drink.

“You know you can’t get sick from me,” Bucky told Tony, squinting darkly at the drink.

“You could still be a carrier!” Tony protested.

“I actually can’t,” Bucky said flatly. “Hydra tested that. Viral, bacterial, doesn’t matter. The serum eliminates it completely. The experiments would have been pretty nifty if they hadn’t, you know, been injecting me with smallpox.”

Tony looked horrified while Steve smiled sadly. He hoped Tony never found out about all the experiments Howard had had performed on _him_.

“Sorry,” Tony said quietly, looking down at the drink.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bucky told him, coming around to put a very cold metal hand on the back of Tony’s neck.

Tony screeched and dropped the mug. Thankfully Steve had good reflexes and caught the mug before it could fall far.

Bucky just smiled. This? This would never get old.

 

\----------

\----------

 

The day had started out great. Being followed by a super hot assassin lady wasn't something that happened to Wade every day and he had intended to make the best of it. Leading her on a merry tour of the local mall, buying her Starbucks, going into stores and trying to make her feel uncomfortable.

It was going great right until he had gotten in line for Santa only to realize she was gone. “Assassin Lady?” He asked, looking around.

This just wouldn't do, he'd lost her! “I'll just have to find her again…. right after pictures with Santa!”

Something that sounded a lot easier than it was. He spent hours looking all over the mall for her before finally giving it up as a lost cause. “Maybe she had something to do. Still, she could have at least let a guy know!” Wade huffed, giving it up as a lost cause and heading back to the house he was squatting in.

It was nice that Weasel had family in the suburbs so he could hide out when the city got a little too hot for him. As places went it was a step up than the place he shared with Blind Al (who was staying with Weasel at the moment.) Best yet, it was a quiet neighborhood without any crazy drug cartels.

“Or it's supposed to be quiet…” he mused, getting dropped off by the Lyft car to find the neighborhood full of strange cars. Really nice cars and a van. A really crappy looking van.

Ducking into his house he immediately went to the widow to watch as a dark haired man came out to apparently shovel more spaces clear. He did not look happy about it, either. But they might have had to do with the metal arm. Wade blinked. “Metal arm and _not Colossus_? Is that a Winter Soldier I spy?”

Even more exciting was _Assassin Lady_ coming out of the house. He hadn't lost her after all! This called for a celebration! Or at the very least for him to be neighborly and introduce himself. The worst the could do was try and kill him, and that was what the holidays were all about.

But what to _wear?_ So many choices… like that red fluffy parka with the white fluff… hey! He could be Santa! Except his face was kind of…. well. That's what ski masks were for, right?

By the time he got changed and out there Assassin Lady was gone, but he was pretty sure that was _the_ Tony Stark and _Captain America!!!_ on the deck.

“Ho ho hey! Merry Hanaquanzika!” Immediately he raised his hands as he found a gun in his face. Wow the Winter Soldier was good! “Easy there tiger! You don't wanna shoot Santa, do you?”

“You're not Santa.”

“I’m Santa’s helper!”

It was surprisingly Tony that pushed down the gun. “Relax there, Bambi.”

He'd never heard someone growl before that wasn't Logan. “You know this joker?”

“Wade Wilson, the unkillable mercenary. He's a bit like a modern day you, old man.”

“Hey, oww! I'm much better looking!” Wade cut in. “Unlike some people I don't need to use mascara to make myself feel pretty.” He held out a hand “Deadpool. Nice to meet you, cold Assassin Guy. I saw you with Assassin Lady earlier. I was wondering where she went. But I gotta tell you, there's an easier way to shovel.”

The Winter Soldier raised an eyebrow, bemused. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Just skip ahead to the part of the story where it's already done.”

“....”

“Anyway… do you want to come in for hot cocoa?” Tony asked. “We are throwing a party and it'll really throw Phil for a loop.”

“Don't mind if I do!”

 

\------

\------

 

It was very hard to be Tony Stark’s friend sometimes. Like now for instance. Rhodey _knew_ he had told Tony about looking into a alternative medication, but of course Tony had to pick now to call. It's not like he could've called in the last week while he was at his expo, no that wouldn't work, not with Rhode right down the hall from him.

So now here he was trying to have a meeting with the elusive Doctor Strange and his phone was playing AC/DC. He was lucky the medical genius seemed a little odd as well. He _had_ come through a portal and thin air.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" The doctor asked.

With a sheepish smile Rhodey pulled out his phone. “ _What_?”

"Rhodey my man, want to come to a party?"

"Tony, you know I'm busy. Why are you calling me?"

His friend just laughed, "I just told you why, I'm inviting you to a party. It's at Agent Agent’s house. So want to come?”

“Tony I’d love to but like I said, meeting. You know how long it took to track this guy down.” He turned slightly so Strange couldn't see his face clearly. Not an easy thing to do with the braces, and he appreciated the medic-or-mystic (depending on who you asked) allowing him the illusion of privacy. “It be rude to leave now.”

“Exceedingly.” Strange cut in. So much for the illusion of privacy.

Tony hummed for all of three seconds. “So bring him along.”

“Tony, no. I am in no way subjecting a _stranger_ to one of your parties. Especially at Agent Agent’s.” Though he did sort of want to go. He was sure the whole gang would be there.

“Aww Rhode-bear, the spider guy is going to be so sorry to miss you.”

“Tony--”

“So I'll put you and mister, sorry, _Doctor_ Strange down as a maybe then. Toodles sweet cheeks.” The line went dead.

Rhodey scratched the back of his head as he looked over at Strange. “Where were we?”

“Finishing up here so we could get to a party, I assume. Don't worry, I'll be sure for us to arrive fashionably late.” The man smirked in a way that was much too similar to Tony for him to be comfortable with it.

…. Sometimes he wondered where he met these people.

 

\--------

\--------

 

It had been a surprisingly enjoyable day for Phil. He had enjoyed a late brunch with May and Hill. Having Fury stop in was a little odd, but it had been a while since he had seen his old friend so he wasn't about to question it too closely. Just look at it side-eyed, maybe.

He had expected that to be the end of it, but Hill had other plans. Since she was driving he didn't have much of a choice when she turned into the parking lot of the Grand Union grocery store on Main St. If she had to do the grocery shopping for her extended family she should have just said so instead of going to lunch with him. Now he felt bad.

“I thought you just had a brother?” Phil asked as Hill loaded up the grocery cart he was trying to maneuver through the crowded store.

“That’s right,” Hill replied, checking her phone for what seemed the hundredth time.

“So, why do we need eight pizzas?”

“He has eight kids.”

“What? I thought you said your brother only had two!” Phil exclaimed.

She added some more drinks, “He did. Then he adopted.”

“He adopted _six_ kids…?” Phil was starting to get suspicious now.

“He's got a big heart. And a lot of money.” She replied calmly. “Like someone else we know…” was muttered under her breath.

“... I thought he was a grade school teacher. Also, why do his eight children need four bottles of Grey Goose? And three bottles of Bacardi?”

“Well we adults need something to drink too. And why the sudden interest in my brother’s home life? Are you planning on being my plus one?” She asked, turning the overflowing cart towards the checkout line.

Phil stood in the middle of the aisle, completely flummoxed. He would love to go to her family dinner, but that might be weird since they worked together. Also, he _knew_ Maria was deflecting, but man was she _good_ at at. He was at a loss for words until he felt something ram into the back of his knees. “Ow.”

“I’m so sorry, Sir!” a frazzled-looking parent apologized before turning to their errant child. “Billy, I’ve told you you have to be careful when you’re pushing the little carts! You can’t just run into people! Go say you’re sorry to the nice man.”

Instead of doing anything of the sort, Billy chose to throw himself on the floor and scream. Accepting the mother's frazzled look as an apology for her ill behaved child Phil chose to back away slowly and find Hill.

“Did you kill someone?” Hill asked when he found her waiting in one of the long checkout lines.

“No, but whoever invented those tiny shopping carts for children needs to go on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s list of super villains,” he complained.

“I’ll be sure to get right on that. Here, bring these out to the car.” She said, nodding to the bags that were already ready. He assumed they were getting such good service because of the killer look she was giving the cashier. Thanks to that they were out out the store in record time. “So, I’ll drop you off first before heading over to my brother’s. Unless you want to come?”

Phil gave her a look he hoped wasn’t too pleading. “No, that’s all right. I have a few reports I should get finished tonight. Thanks for the offer, though. I hope you have fun with him and his… eight… children…”

“If you’re sure…” She said, a small smile on her face as she expertly pulled out into traffic. The ride passed in relative silence until she pulled onto the quiet street that the safe house was located in. There seemed to be an awful lot of cars parked out front. Maybe one of the neighbors was having a party?

Pulling into one of the few empty spots left, Hill parked and turned off the car. “Why don’t I give you one of these bottles? A Christmas gift,” she said, getting out of the car. He was a little confused as to why she was getting out but it was still nice to spend even a little bit longer with her.

The small smirk that grew on her face as they approached the front door was _really_ suspicious. He turned to her to ask exactly what was going on when the door opened.

“Agent Agent, my man!” Tony said happily as he enveloped Phil in a tight hug. “So good to see you among the living! Welcome to your holiday party!”

“My what now?” Phil asked, trying to compose himself until he saw the veritable horde behind Tony.

“Holiday party. Shindig, gathering, hoopla, get together. Whatever you wanna call it.” Tony waved a hand vaguely. “We’ve all been waiting for you forever. You have a nice brunch? Speedy, unload the car.”

“Stop giving me orders, Stark!” A blur went by.

“OH MY GOSH it’s the FLASH! Where’s Superman? We need a race!”

“Tony, why is there a mercenary in my safehouse?”

“Don’t worry about that, Deadpool’s cool. C’mon, everyone wants to see you! Alive, that is. Shame on you about that, by the way.”

Phil was officially confused as he was ushered into the living room that looked _nothing_ like it had when he left. “How did you find me?” Then again, Tony Stark. Stupid question. “How did you set…” Also another dumb question. Seeing all the smiling faces he just shook his head, “Thank you all.”

“Son of Coul!” Thor shouted, picking him up in one of his enthusiastic hugs Phil had never experienced but had witnessed more than once.

“So _that’s_ who ‘Agent Agent’ is,” Clint said, reality dawning on him from his perch on top of the bookcase.

“How did you not know that?” Kate asked from her spot next to him. “Even _I_ knew that. When are you gonna get down there and introduce me to your favorite undead handler?”

As the breath squeaked out of Phil, he heard Deadpool say, “Aww group hug! I love you too, Agent guy I don’t know!” before something else collided with his back. Suddenly it seemed like everyone was in on it.

It was a bit uncomfortable, but he had to admit it was nice. Because that was what family was about, wasn’t it? Putting up with a little discomfort when you spent time with everyone… “This is the best gift you all could have gotten me.”

Tony laughed awkwardly. “Well… I’m going to have to buy you a new stove too…”

“...What?”

“Don’t worry about that. Enjoy the party.”


End file.
